


A Good Time For All Of Us

by catsaremyboyfriend



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Subby Matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4629480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsaremyboyfriend/pseuds/catsaremyboyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>bruh it's five here and i love marci stahl so much I LOVE HER god she's so scary and smart and great</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mx_Carter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mx_Carter/gifts).



Matt listens to terrible music. It’s something Foggy has come to accept about him, one of the many things about Matt. 

“God, Matt, what the hell, do you only listen to, like, German death reggae?” Matt tilts his head, confused, and Foggy immediately feels terrible, of _course_ Matt doesn’t watch TV, he won’t get that reference. “What?”

Matt’s smiling now, and his mouth is ridiculous, Foggy still can’t believe he gets to touch it. Jesus. “Whatever you’re ashamed about, it doesn’t matter.” 

“Quit reading my heartbeat,” Foggy snaps, not really annoyed, curls his palm around the back of Matt’s neck. He can’t, sometimes, fit goofy Matt Murdock in with Daredevil, can’t fit all those sharp edges into Matt’s soft smile. It doesn’t matter. He’s learning.  
*  
*  
Matt gets dosed with…something, something that leads him through Foggy’s door at three in the morning, sweat-slick, still in the suit, tugging on zippers til it pools at his feet. Foggy, scrambling out of bed, nearly trips over his sheets.

“Matty?”  


Matt’s grinning, wide, ten years gone from his face. “I feel…I feel _really_ good, Foggy.” He bumps his forehead against Foggy’s, pressing sloppy kisses to his nose, his cheek. “Real good.” 

Foggy grabs at his hips, feels solid muscle where most people would have a bit of fat, at least. “Pretty boy,” he husks, half-asleep and fond, he’s always fond of Matt. Matt slumps into him, a long line of warm bare skin, hot puffs of breath against Foggy’s neck.  
“You hurt?” Foggy mumbles into the soft place where Matt’s hairline ends, behind his ear. He smells like leather, like the suit and the cologne he spent months picking out. Picky. Matt’s always been picky but Foggy understands. 

“Mm. No.” He moves away from Foggy, just a step, falling back onto the bed, _Foggy’s_ bed, where his scent will stay for days. “C’mere.” There’s a flush high on Matt’s cheekbones, down his chest. He’s grabbing at Foggy, at the band of his sweats, fingers dipping in and lower. 

“I think you should drink some water, maybe. Flush this out.”

Matt skims a hand up his own stomach, splays a palm over his nipple, beams up at the ceiling. “You think?” 

“Yeah.” Foggy holds out a hand, grabs Matt’s when he starts fishing around for it, hauls him up. It takes them longer than usual to get to the kitchen, Matt stumbling, his senses failing for once. “Drink,” Foggy tells him, pushing a cup of water into his hands, a chipped mug his Ma gave him. 

“That an order?” Matt asks, eyebrows raised, the flush on his cheeks deepening. He hasn’t stopped smiling. Whatever this drug is, Foggy kinda likes it.

“Could be,” Foggy says, easy, leading Matt to an armchair, where he slumps, legs spread, head tipped back. There’s a bruise on his neck; Foggy’s not sure whether it’s a hickey or an injury. He moves in to rub a hand over Matt’s head, squeezes the nape of his neck, watches as he shivers, over-sensitive. God, if it wasn’t so late he’d call Karen, this is awesome.  
“Matt, hey, baby, how’re you feeling?” he asks, gentle, putting a thumb to Matt’s bottom lip, pressing. 

“Good. I’m good. _Everything’s_ good.” 

“God, you’re cute.”

“Lord’s name,” Matt warns, but he’s laughing, coming down a little.

“Jeez.” Foggy keeps touching him, his face, long trails of his fingers down the stubble on Matt’s jaw. “I should get Karen over here,” he says aloud, deep, letting his voice rumble. “She’d love you like this. We’d take you apart.” Matt giggles, and Foggy’s a little put off, he’s trying to be _sexy_ here, but he smiles anyway, can’t help it. “What, Matty?”

“I want…yeah. Hm.” His eyes are slipping closed, hand splayed over the trail of hair low on his belly. Foggy’s _definitely_ taking pictures to send to Karen. 

“Sleepy?” 

Matt dips his head, slumping to the side. In a few minutes he’ll be asleep, and Foggy will bring him to bed. Matt’s strong but he’s built all bird bones and long legs, easy enough to carry. In the morning, Foggy will make pancakes.  
*  
They fuck the next day, til Matt’s so lost in his head he’s babbling nonsense, over-stimulated but still taking it, biting at the fat curve of his bottom lip. After, Foggy rolls off him, surprised when Matt rolls with him, presses kisses to his collarbone. 

Foggy can’t help himself, grabs Matt’s ass, best ass in the world, second only to Karen’s, maybe. They’re probably equal, he thinks, kissing Matt’s sweaty hair. “You all good, baby?” he asks, and Matt makes a happy noise low in his throat, so relaxed he’s boneless.

“Mhm.” Fuck, Foggy loves him like this, when he’s just Matt, just the best guy Foggy’s ever met. 

“Karen’ll be here in a few.” Matt flips onto his stomach, Foggy leering at the smooth expanse of his back, the dimples right above his ass. They’ve been fucking for months now, with Karen included, and he feels like he’ll never get used to either of them. And to think, he almost became a butcher and missed out on all of this. 

“Hungry,” Matt murmurs, rubbing his face against the pillow, enjoying the sensory overload. 

“Karen’s got Lebanese.”

Matt’s shoulders bunch as he shifts, hugging his arms to his chest, the delicate shoulder blades bulging. “Kibbeh?” 

“No, Matt, she purposefully forgot your favorite food just to spite you.” 

Matt smiles, still loose, lasting longer than Foggy’s ever seen. “Smart ass.” 

“Cute ass,” Foggy teases, grabbing Matt’s. 

“That was lame even for you.” Foggy touches a new scar, high up where his neck turns into his shoulder. He’d ask if Matt is being careful, but he already knows the answer.

“You love me anyway.” 

“I do.”  
*  
Matt’s dozing when Karen shows up, her rain coat on, tucking wet, gold hair behind her ear. She’s wearing rain boots with little cats on them, cute enough that Foggy feels obliged to comment. “Nice boots.”

She gives him a small, pleased smile, spreading lunch out on the table. “Thanks. They’re new.” Matt stirs, awake, he usually can’t sleep with anyone around.  
“Hey,” Karen says as he and Foggy get up, pad into the kitchen. Matt’s pulling on a pair of Foggy’s sweats, looking like sin. Foggy loves seeing these two in his clothes. 

“Smells good, Karen. Thanks.”

She pecks Matt’s cheek, then Foggy’s, before sitting at the table. “You’re welcome.”


	2. Juana

“Fog. Foggy. Fogster.” Matt lists to the side, giggling a little, hair flopping into his face. There’s a mark on his cheek, probably from pressing it into Foggy’s shoulder. 

Karen looks over from where she’s making dinner, wearing one of Foggy’s shirts, rubbing one foot against the other. “You two are _so_ high,” she murmurs, stirring. 

“Nah. No,” Matt says, grinning, his mouth red and wide.

“You are,” she repeats, turning to him, the gold shimmer of her hair, shaking her spoon. The smile on her face makes Foggy grin back, before he hooks an arm around Matt’s shoulders, gets him settled on the couch in a loose-limbed sprawl.

He tips his head, and she can’t believe he actually went out to get weed, just on Foggy’s casual, “You’re hot when you’re high, Matty.” She’s putting the spoon to her lips, tasting, when Matt presses himself up behind her, so fast she jumps. 

“Do you believe in the Devil?” he growls, low, a laugh in his voice. 

She turns, fits her thumbs into the cradle of his hipbones. “Do you?” 

For once, he doesn’t turn serious, kissing her collarbone, noses into her neck. “You smell good.”

“Yeah?” 

“You always smell good. Like cherries, and Foggy, and…” He sighs, moving further into her space, squeezing her hips. “And me. You smell like me.”

She kisses his forehead, a little warm, pushes his bangs back. Foggy is watching from the couch, chin hooked over the back, eyes soft. She slides her hands lower, to Matt’s ass, grabs, winking at Foggy. “Are you hungry?”

Matt nods, kissing across her chest, touching her hair, eyes focused somewhere past her head. She pushes him away, gentle, swats at his ass. He’s wearing sweats, probably Foggy’s judging by the way they hang off his hips, the scars on his back standing out stark.

He’s only a few feet away and she already wants him back, so she hooks her finger into his waistband, reels him in for a quick kiss. She wants his mouth, she _always_ wants his mouth, especially now when he tastes like weed, lips drier than usual. 

He’s smiling as she kisses him, giggles, fingers curling in the elastic of her underwear; they’re ugly, but Foggy won’t care and Matt can’t see them. She tugs at his hair, meaner than she would with Foggy. Matt shudders and goes still. “That feel good, baby?” she husks, biting his earlobe, thumbing at his nipple til he whimpers. 

“ _Yeah_.” Reaching behind without looking, she turns the stove off. Dinner can wait.  
*  
*  
Later, when Matt has hickeys across his shoulders, panting, Foggy curled around his side, Karen gets up, braiding her hair back, and looks down at both of them. Foggy’s hair is clumped where she used it for handholds, his smile dopey.

“Hey. Where’re you goin’?” he mumbles, shifting Matt aside; Matt rolls like he’s out cold, but he’s smirking, toes curling. Happy.

“I never finished dinner. I’m hungry,” she complains, tugging Foggy’s shirt back on, watching his eyes go dark. She’s so lucky. “You guys are bound to have the munchies soon.” 

Foggy gives her a thumbs up and falls back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruh it's five here and i love marci stahl so much I LOVE HER god she's so scary and smart and great

**Author's Note:**

> yo Mx_Carter wassup my bronado i wrote this at 5 in the morning and it took forever to get to 1000 words and here is the subby matt we dreamed of in all his beautiful loose glory. next stop is sam/gamora thanks for the help!


End file.
